


Human On the Inside

by amanounmei



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2834972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amanounmei/pseuds/amanounmei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arsenal has issues. People have issues with Arsenal. Something needs to be done to resolve them, and for that he needs his heart's desire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Human On the Inside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eviatan](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Eviatan).



> This was written for evietan.tumblr.com as part of a DC-themed Secret Santa gift exchange. Merry Christmas!
> 
> With a small tribute to the Authority with the title there.

Arsenal had just about enough.

Eight years, gone. Just like that, in a matter of seconds, he missed eight entire years of his life. Filling him in on all the details, getting him up to speed with everything that happened took a long while, but he eventually got it all. The problem with that? Roy Harper. He was not there, had not lived through a single moment of that time, and yet he did. There were now two of him and even though Arsenal knew without a doubt that he was the real one, it did not help matters at all.

He was a broken man. A man older than he should be; with a body aged more than his mind, even if he would not admit it before anyone but himself. Then there was the arm. Even though he got a new one, a magnificent weapon, it could not entirely replace the flesh and bone that used to be there. When not wearing the mask, Arsenal found it hard to look at his hand. In costume, he was a fighter, a living weapon, and the machine in him suited that purpose fine. But when the mask was put away, he should become a man... and he could not. Not anymore. He would never be a human again, and would remain broken.

And not just physically, either. He lacked in what seemed like all respects. Even back when he was just Speedy, just the kid who ran around with Green Arrow he caused more trouble than he was worth. He could never fully control some impulses, some aspects of his own being, and that was what must have driven him to becoming Lex Luthor's personal armless Popsicle. And when he finally woke, he had nothing. Everything he could have had, could have been, belonged to that clone.

He was just so much... better, at everything. Sure, he had his differences with Ollie, but that came with being Roy Harper. He did not really invent a shtick for himself just yet, but he probably just needed time. It really did not matter when he made it to the Justice League, did it? He was accepted by the big guys and that meant respect. And he found a wife. And they had a daughter.

Arsenal felt like screaming each time he remembered that.

And they wondered why he refused to go to most meetings.

 

Nightwing did not seem to want to allow him his solitude, unlike most everyone else in the team. Arsenal guessed it came with being the leader; the responsibility for everyone involved and the necessity to try and make everyone happy. If that was even possible. Was happiness actually a thing? He had been wondering about that recently, since the whole concept felt more alien to him than ever. Almost as if happiness became something that happened to other people. If he was ever going to find any, it would certainly not be thanks to Nightwing, and probably not anyone else, either. But he could not blame the leader for trying, he understood why he would, so he just continued to dismiss those attempts with short responses and excuses.

This time, however, Dick Grayson would not be ignored.

“Roy,” he said, his voice firm, as he approached. They seemed to be alone in the warehouse, at least for the time being.

Arsenal could not care. He had other things on his mind. “That's not my name anymore.”

Nightwing raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure that's the one you were born with.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Doesn't matter, someone else has it and he's better at having it than me.”

A moment of silence followed. “We've talked about this, Red Arrow-”

“Usurped my life,” Roy finished, cutting the other man off and earning a more stern glare. It always went like that. First there would be questions, perhaps some compassion, or even reassurance, but it would soon get replaced by anger, if not contempt. No one understood what it felt like to lose so much time to a copy of himself. Of course they had no way of knowing, but no one bothered to try.

Nightwing let out a low groan. “You know it wasn't his fault, he didn't ask for your life and he had no idea!”

That must have come out sharper than intended, because Dick's expression softened just a bit even before the words faded into the air. Arsenal was not looking at him at that point, though. He had almost wanted to remove his mask, but decided otherwise, if only to prove a point about the name he wanted to use. “No,” he admitted. “The clone isn't at fault. But he's making it worse. How do I get my life back if he's here?”

There came more silence, and Nightwing's expression was not clearly visible. His mouth was still, his face stern, but his eyes remained hidden by the domino mask and all those parts together gave him a look so blank it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. And he clearly had to be thinking, since it took him so long to find an answer. A question like that was not easy to answer, granted, but Arsenal figured a man who strove so hard to cheer him up should have had something prepared.

“You don't get it back,” Dick finally said, and before the other could reply with anger – as his bared teeth suggested – he continued: “You make your own.”

“I did,” Roy said sternly. “I was at least more original than the clone in naming myself.”

Nightwing frowned. “The team isn't all there is to life, Roy.”

“But it's all I have!” he spat. “Or do you want me to get a new identity!? A new name, maybe a fake family record so I can be someone else? And- and leave the real me to a fucking doppelganger?!”

He clenched his hands, both the flesh and the machine, into fists. Somehow that managed to calm the rest of him down a little, and the next words came out heated, but not as much. “I have no place left, Nightwing. I don't even have a way of starting over like you did.”

Dick's reply to that sounded stern, but there was a hint of a quiver in his voice, as if he was unsure whether he really wants to say it. “What do you mean?”

Arsenal huffed, a mirthless smile on his face. “Oh, please. You were replaced too, weren't you? Old Bats had no need of you anymore, so he got himself a new Robin.”

“That's not it,” he said immediately, barely waiting for the last sentence to be over.

“You keep telling yourself that,” Roy said and turned around. Then he just started heading for the door, expecting a swift arm to stop him, or a string of sounds to ask him not to leave. But none of that came, so he just continued on his way to the exit, though slower than he intended. “That other Robin got replaced too, remember? Red Arrow got replaced. Even if we come back, we're always expendable.”

And he went out, leaving Nightwing to his increasingly disturbed thoughts.

 

Arsenal was being sent on missions, and he felt both glad and somewhat thankful. It took his mind off other things, at least most of the time, unless Lex Luthor was involved, or he had to make use of his mechanical arm. That helped him get used to it, and he was forced to admit it brought him more good than harm. It became a useful tool for him, not just for combat, and his own personal gimmick. Something to distinguish him from the clone, something of his own.

So even though he got it as a result of personal tragedy, and from the man directly responsible for it, the arm became an integral part of both Arsenal and old Roy Harper.

But the others did not trust him. He saw it clearly in the way they behaved around him. They tried very hard not to glance at his implant, and were cautious about what to say. Most of the time, anyway. Usually they did not address him directly at all, the exception being the Bats. Nightwing, Robin, Batgirl, they all at least acknowledged that he was there and was part of the team. But no one ever gave him any real responsibility. He got sent out only to be a heavy hitter, a secret weapon, because most of his, well, arsenal was literally inside him and could be easily concealed. He never called the shots.

Robin called the shots last time. A freaking fourteen-year-old with self-esteem below zero, no confidence in his own skills and an abundance of fear. What he feared was none of Arsenal's business, but if he were to make a guess, it would be something along the lines of not being good enough. Of not living up to the people he looked up to and being too small for the shoes he had to fill.

Roy knew a lot about that.

But despite all that Robin did a great job. He called all the right shots, got them in and out and even brought a little extra intel from the whole thing. And himself? Arsenal screwed up. He let his impulses get the better of him, even though he continued to claim to himself that it was the right thing to do. That he derailed or at least slowed down the Light's plan, whatever it was, and fighting back at Lex Luthor was just an added bonus. Sure, they ran into a lot of trouble because of that, but it was worth it. Or so he decided to believe.

Robin never said a thing. Not to Nightwing, not to Arsenal, not to anyone. He chose to let Roy's disobedience go unpunished, even though it was not unnoticed. He must have understood the issues he was going through, at least partly, because clearly they shared many of those.

A fourteen-year-old with no self-esteem and no confidence covered for his sorry ass.

Robin was a better man than him.

 

Arsenal was conflicted.

Far too much kept going through his head all at once. When things happened there were at least three different reactions he wanted to go with at a time, and he always seemed to choose the worst one. Which usually proved to also be the aggressive one. He did not understand it at all, failed at controlling it and it drove him to the brink of madness. Not entirely figuratively, either. But he talked to people so seldom those days that he did not have anyone he could ask. Not anyone he trusted enough with things so personal, anyway.

But he did overhear some people talking about him. They never spoke about him to his face; they did not ask questions – especially not the “how are you doing” kind of questions – or even voiced their opinion. It was like he suddenly became taboo that no one was allowed to mention unless they were out of his earshot. But when they thought he could not hear they spoke about him perhaps too often, and perhaps too openly.

Nightwing was part of one of those conversations once, and to Roy's shock, he was defending him. He blamed all of his erratic behaviour on the tragedy he lived through, on the confusion plaguing his life and on... hormones? Surely that had nothing to do with anything.

Unless it did. Arsenal was well aware that his mind never caught up with his body. It was dormant, locked in a forced sleep while his body grew and matured without him. He never really went through that rebellious phase everyone keeps talking about, his mind stuck just before fourteen when it should be nearing twenty-two. He never got used to the changes inside him, chief among them being the new needs. Sure, he was aware of sex and sexuality before he was put on ice, but at that point he only began finding interest in all of that. He never had a chance to learn more, to explore his own sexual needs.

And now those wants were catching up with him like wildfire.

It was overwhelming. He caught himself staring at his team mates every several minutes, his eyes always wandering to quite inappropriate parts. At least the domino mask did a fine job hiding those glances. That felt... natural, almost. The desire to have someone else, emotionally, physically... Someone close, for himself. What confused him – perhaps scared him – was that his eyes were drawn to breasts as much as to penises. Neither of which he got to see outside of clothes, but still. He had a pretty vivid imagination, even if he had issues focusing it on one person at a time.

Though that one night it was a little easier. That kiss from Wonder Girl did, well, wonders. He let his imagination flow freely as he thought of her flowing hair, her shapely breasts and that fine, round rear.

Shame his mechanical arm was really shitty for that.

 

He tried. He really, really tried.

Cassandra was simply not interested. He had approached her a few times since she kissed him on the cheek, but all he got were playful smiles. God, was she cute when she smiled. But nothing more. In fact, Arsenal was pretty sure he failed miserably in all things romantic, what with him not actually having a chance at learning that stuff. He did not even really try any flirting, just attempted to drop some hints as to what he would like to happen. Mentioned that little kiss, gave her a few clumsy compliments, and that was that. She most likely understood his intentions, and did not act on them... all the while bearing that gorgeous smile.

Roy hated himself. Surely Cassie would have been interested in him had he tried harder. Had he not made such a fool of himself. Or maybe it was because he was not fully human, and would never be. Who in their right mind would want an incomplete man?

He grew pretty desperate and could not hide that fact from himself anymore. The loneliness started to get the better of him, both mind and body. So if the prettiest girl around rejected him, he did not waste time in trying somewhere else.

Robin sounded like a much better bet. He was insanely cute himself; in fact, such cuteness in a boy should probably be illegal, or there at least should be some restrictions in place. He walked with uncanny grace which he did not even seem to acknowledge, smiled in a way that radiated warmth and sinister joy depending on what role he needed to play that day. Both worked perfectly for him, and it was really amazing how he could think so low of himself. But that was exactly why Arsenal decided to approach him; being much less confident than Cassandra, Robin would surely not push him away as easily.

And since the kid proved earlier that he at least recognizes Roy as a team mate, the chances of getting a proper conversation rose to pretty good. And as expected he got some of that, though Robin quickly became visibly nervous the moment he realized what Arsenal was actually going for. He started fidgeting, he fumbled with words and tried hard to avoid eye contact. But, through what must have been a miracle, he did not actually leave.

So Roy took his chances and stole his first kiss.

The batkid clearly had no idea what to do, and frankly, neither did Arsenal. The whole thing felt just as awkward as it did enticing. After a longer moment the soft, delicious lips tried to pull away from Roy, and he had no choice but to let them. And oh, that face. That magnificent blush made Robin look just plain lovely, and the way he tried to push the other man away-

Yes. He pushed him away and ran off. He got rejected again through nothing but his own fault. He felt like he had a chance there, like something could have come out of it all if he just did a better job. But no, he had to go and ruin the whole thing by being a moron. By wanting to be close to someone, to hold someone to himself and get just a tiny bit of that romance everyone seems to be longing for.

Not all it is cracked up to be, clearly.

And Arsenal returned to his own place fighting tears.

 

It took two, perhaps three hours for him to be approached by none other than Nightwing himself. He came straight into Roy's room, but in all fairness, the door was not exactly locked. Arsenal pulled up from where he was sitting and drowning in self-pity.

“What is it?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice as even as possible.

“I should be asking that,” Dick said, arms crossed on his chest and lips thinned into a barely visible line.

His response was met with a small frown. “You're not exactly making it clear.”

“Neither are you,” Nightwing said, the thin line shifting into more of a sneer, baring his teeth just a little bit. “I will not turn a blind eye on sexual harassment, Roy.”

“Harass- oh,” Arsenal sighed, shaking his head. “Did the little birdie tell on me?”

“You _bet_ he did.”

Another shake of the head. “Look, I don't know what he told you, but I wasn't harassing him, it was just a kiss.”

“You didn't give him much of a choice,” came in response, and the voice the words were said in grew increasingly heated. “You didn't wait for his consent, you didn't really give him an out of that situation, you just forced a kiss on him. That's harassment.”

With a groan, Roy sat back down. “Fine, whatever. I won't do that again. Happy?”

Nightwing took a step closer and stared him down with that trademark batfamily gaze that could melt stone. Even Arsenal, with all his bravado and coldness and the stone walls he metaphorically erected around himself, had to inch away just a bit further onto the bed. Nothing was said, but nothing needed to for him to know that his answer was the bad one. Maybe if the one in question was not Dick's immediate family – though not everyone on the team knew that – things would have been different. But he was so protective of his little stepbrother that nothing could calm him down at this point, or at least Arsenal assumed so.

“... Sorry,” he managed, looking away from that mask. How could someone so slender, so handsome and so damn kind to people be so intimidating when he wanted to?

… Did he really just call him handsome in his head?

“Look,” Nightwing said, his voice just a little bit softer. “I know life wasn't kind to you. We all know that. You've got issues and that's understandable, but I don't think you can handle them on your own.”

Roy snorted, but almost immediately regretted it. “And who's gonna bother helping me?” he asked, looking back at the other man.

“Green Arrow, for starters.”

A laugh escaped his lips, and he did not try to stop it. “Of all people... you have no idea what he and I went through, even before I... slept,” he paused, the laughter disappearing from his voice completely. The last word was said with a slightly trembling voice. Arsenal clearly did not want to – or perhaps could not – call his disappearance what it really was. He did not want to think about it.

Dick sighed, a little too heavily. “What about the rest of us? We were friends, you and I. I thought we still are.”

“You're friends with the other Roy.”

The words did not sound like a “no”, but they cut like the sharpest knife. Nightwing actually felt a stab somewhere to the left in his chest. Sure, he had to be the strict leader and make the tough decisions, and that was bound to make him unpopular with some people. But was Arsenal trying to imply that their friendship evaporated over the years when someone else lived his life? Surely it could not have; because Roy, the original, had no time to forget those he cared about, and Dick lived those years certain that his friend is still the same person. Then what did he mean? Was he upset over a friend hanging out with his clone?

“And you,” he said after a longer moment, sitting next to him on the bed.

Arsenal did not protest. “Everything is so easy for you to say...” he finally removed his mask, letting himself drop the tough act. He really did not want to do that at all, but at times he had no other choice. Things hurt, no matter how hard he denied it, and despite being able to hide it rather well in public, the pain made itself even more apparent when he was alone. At that moment he was not alone, of course, but with someone he cared about enough to open up to. Yes, they were still friends. He could never forget Dick Grayson and all the time they spent together.

Dick Grayson, who grew up to be such a beautiful man.

“I'd understand better if you talked to me,” he said, removing his mask and looking at Roy with those deep, blue eyes. The same eyes he remembered as if it was yesterday, because for him it almost was. They never changed, it seemed, always keeping that little cheerful, hopeful spark in them.

“I'm lonely, okay?” Arsenal admitted, averting his gaze again. “I don't fit here. I don't fit anywhere.”

“That's bullshit and you know it,” Nightwing raised an eyebrow at him. “Green Arrow wants you back. Do you have any idea how hard he cried when he found out what happened to you?”

Roy peered at him sideways.

“I heard him talk to Batman. He could barely form words over the tears.”

“And that makes it better,” Arsenal said, his voice slightly hoarse. He lowered it a little, as if trying to hide something, but to the other man the tears looked rather obvious.

“It shows that he's being honest with you,” Nightwing said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder and feeling it shiver.

The eyes moved away from him again. “He can't give me everything I need.”

There was a short pause. “Is that why you kissed Robin?”

Arsenal did not reply, which spoke more than words could. Dick heaved another, heavy and perhaps unnecessarily drawn-out sigh. “You know,” he said. “If you talked to people more, you'd know some things.”

And when Roy turned back to him with a confused frown on his face, he leaned towards him slowly, giving him enough time to pull away. To give him a sign to stop, as it should be. But as his lips inched closer and closer to the other man's, there was no protest, no sign of rejection. So Nightwing kissed him, slowly and gently.

Arsenal returned that kiss, still not really knowing how, so he just tried to mimic what was done to him. He felt his cheeks heat up, and after a longer moment it was not just his cheeks. To think he could be in a situation like this, in his own room behind closed doors with someone he cared about very much... He dreamed of it for some time now, practically since he was revived from stasis. Of course his feelings never focused on one person, but he could do much worse than Dick Grayson.

His thoughts – and one of his hands – immediately moved to that perfect rear of his. Everyone looked at it. Everyone always stared when Nightwing walked by, their eyes inevitably drawn to his shapely ass. Men and women alike, in fact. As long as someone was interested in men they would notice just how magnificent Dick is, and it was Roy, _Roy_ who got to be this close to that perfection.

A smile greeted him as they parted. “Is there something else you want?”

Blushing at his inexperience, Arsenal quickly withdrew the hand. “I... I do,” he managed. He really had no idea how this was supposed to go in real life. Porn was one thing, it could teach him what part was what and show him all the different things that could be done in bed. And of course he had the Talk with Ollie a long time ago, but not even that could fix his shyness. His fear of being inadequate in sex, just like he was in everything else.

Fortunately for him, Dick was anything but shy. His agile hands worked fast on undoing the clothes Roy had on him, so fast, in fact, that Roy himself did not manage to gather his thoughts enough to even consider helping him out with that. Soon he was nude and exposed before the other man, and much to his embarrassment, also quite erect.

Nightwing was not bothered by that at all. He smooched those soft lips again, enjoying their warmth, and quickly moved lower. He planted soft kissed down the exposed neck, then the chest, forcing a quiet, relaxed sigh out of Arsenal. He smiled for a moment before flicking his tongue over a nipple, and hastily resumed his journey downward. Eventually that skilled tongue reached the tip of Roy's erection and gave it one, slow lick.

Arsenal kept his eyes fixed on his now lover the whole time, mesmerized by the sight of someone so beautiful, so popular doing that to him. He was being pleasured in ways he only saw in porn up to that moment, and by the hottest of all the Bats, and even the entire team. Moreover, Dick was still wearing the suit, and that simple fact made the whole thing even more erotic. His shaft demanded more and with barely a few gentle licks it sprang to full attention, making Nightwing smirk to himself.

“Someone's enjoying...” he said, moving his lips along the entire length, revelling in how it twitched at the tease. He held it up with one gloved hand, rubbing it slowly just as soon as he claimed the tip with his mouth.

Roy heard himself groan quietly. It felt so much better than he imagined. Nothing he could do to himself came even close – an interesting choice of words there – and he could not help but want more. He knew he could not last long, not with how Dick sucked his breath in and with how he moved his tongue around the tip, much quicker now, and with how his hand stroked the rest of him...

And then Nightwing moved lower, taking even more of him into his mouth, and Arsenal was driven over the edge. He could not stop himself from spilling right into that warmth, against that soft tongue, and did not bother holding the groan that escaped his lips. His eyes closed on their own, and for a fraction of a second he saw stars.

And then it all faded, leaving him panting on the bed. He heard a quiet gulp as Dick swallowed the seed, and then he saw a broad, pleased smile.

“That felt great...” Roy managed, his voice hoarse and still caught somewhere between ragged breaths.

“We're not done yet,” Dick said, undoing the front of his suit. Clearly he had no intention of removing the whole thing and only let his own erection spring free from its confines.

It looked as it was already as big as it could get, which was... impressive. Not comparable to what Arsenal saw in all those movies he viewed in the solitude of his own room, but still well above average. And the thought of having that, well... He really, really wanted it.

He reached out to touch it, wondering what someone else's... well, dick felt like, but he stopped himself just inches away from it. It was the wrong hand. He could not do it well enough with his left hand, but he would have to, since Nightwing deserved much better than a handjob from something that was not flesh. He himself got used to it, but to someone else it would probably not feel very good. Cold, too smooth and alien.

As he pulled the hand back Dick grabbed it by the wrist and moved it back to his length.

“I don't mind,” he said softly, clearly understanding the problem without it needing to be said. “You're you. That's all I need.”

“Are you sure...?” Roy asked, his fingers barely touching the hardness.

“If that's what bothers you, you're still human.”

Finally, the mechanical fingers wrapped around that demanding shaft and stroked it slowly. This, at least, Arsenal was familiar with. He moved his hand exactly as he did when pleasuring himself, from the very base up to the tip. He flicked his thumb over the slit, earning himself a happy moan in reply, and then travelled back down. There he gently gripped the balls before returning to the length, and managed a smile when he saw that his lover smiled as well. Clearly he must have been doing a better job than he thought.

“Are you going to fuck me?” he asked, possibly because he was never really careful with the words he used. Not very acquainted with romance, he did not exactly care if what he said sounded rude. Fucking was fucking, even if there were deeper feelings behind it.

“We don't have lube, do we?” Dick asked, and when a shake of a head answered him, he added: “Then I won't.”

Roy frowned. “But...”

“Shhhh,” Nightwing hushed him with another kiss. “There's things we can do right now, and we'll prepare better for next time.”

His lover felt his heart skip a beat, and then resume beating even harder. Next time. So they were going to do it again. Someone wanted him enough to stay with him. Even if it was just plain sex, it was more than he ever hoped to actually get; someone who would want to keep him, for any reason. And judging by the words that have been said before and by the glimmer in Dick's eyes, there was much more than just physical attraction to all this.

Someone loved him.

As he tried to wrap his mind around his own fortune, Roy's hand was gently pushed away, what snapped him back to reality instantly. Thinking he must have not been good enough after all he pulled up quickly to perhaps try something else, maybe touch him with his other hand, or maybe try to do the same thing that Dick did to him with his mouth... His own shaft was back up, so maybe he could somehow use that, maybe his now boyfriend would want to be taken...

But he was pushed back down onto the bed and Nightwing moved over him, practically covering him with himself. Of course he was lean, but he was also taller, which made him bigger in general. And now that their shafts were that close to each other Arsenal could see just how inadequate he really was. They said size does not matter, but he never truly believed it. And now he had yet another reason to be ashamed of himself.

His thoughts were once more interrupted by pressure against his renewed erection, but it felt different this time. The hardened length slowly rubbed against his own as Dick thrust his hips at a steady pace, and Roy could even feel balls grinding against him. He did not exactly expect that, but far be it from him to complain. He loved it.

“Hold them together...” he heard, and without a moment's hesitation he took hold of both their shafts with his mechanical hand. He could not really wrap the fingers all the way around, but he managed to steady both and let Nightwing slide more steadily, and tease their entire lengths that way.

Their eyes were locked together virtually the entire time, with the exception of the moments where Roy's closed on their own. He found heaven. It was not just the pleasure, which in itself was enough to send electricity through his entire body – the flesh, anyway – but also the closeness to another person, the knowledge that someone was there for him because they wanted to.

New tears shone in the corners of his eyes when he pulled up to claim Dick's lips in his, and earned a muffled moan and a deep, passionate kiss in response. Very soon the bliss was over, Nightwing having released first between them, staining the other man, and Arsenal following shorty and adding to the mess.

Stained with a mix of their seed he laid back, but refused to let go of his lover, instead pulling him down with himself. Of course that meant that Nightwing's suit got all dirty as well, but he did not seem to mind. He hugged back briefly before rolling off Roy and laying next to him, a slender arm still wrapped around him. They could clean up later. Not like anyone was going to barge in and interrupt them.

They would have a lot to talk about. Many things required an explanation, and surely they would have to determine just what exactly they mean to each other, and all the standard things like that. But not just yet. That could wait a little while.

 

Just when one amazing thing happened in their lives, another tragedy struck.

She came back. Artemis never died and it turned out that Nightwing knew about it all along. Many in the team found it difficult to speak to him for a while, but it did not last very long. Arsenal really could not care much. He had no time to really get to know her, after all, and when he heard that she allegedly died he did not find it very odd, considering Ollie's track record in losing partners. But the others had little time to blame Dick, because yet another issue arose and they had to band together as a team, leaving their personal issues for later.

They won, of course. There was never a question about whether they would, not to Roy. Even if he did not say that out loud he always believed in both the League and the team. Those were greater than the sums of their parts, and even if he had problems with the people who made them, the ideals for which they all stood, the power they had as groups was never in question. So they won, but sadly at a price.

Proving once again that despite all their miraculous powers, they were all still human.

Cassie found herself a boyfriend right about then. It was Tim, of course, almost as if Arsenal's advances pushed them together. Maybe they did, he had no idea. And he no longer cared.

Dick resigned. Everyone understood, of course. He lost his closest friend and needed time to himself to come to terms with that. It was alright for him to take a step back and do whatever he needed to do to find peace of mind. At least that was the official version. A few chosen – the Batman being one of them, of course – knew that Nightwing did not believe in Wally's death. The speedforce was an interesting thing; a phenomenon hardly understood by science, and just because someone disappeared within it meant squat. Had the Flash not accidentally travelled in time with the use of the speedforce before? Maybe that was what happened. Maybe Wally was still out there somewhere and just needed a hand in coming back.

Dick Grayson swore to himself that he would find him and no one tried to stop him. It was not like he would completely cut himself off. The Bat would never let him if he tried. But Nightwing wanted to do it alone.

Arsenal would not allow that, of course. Without asking for his permission he followed. Because he wanted to be there for his boyfriend just like he was there for him. Because they all knew very well that no matter what happened, they would always be there for each other.


End file.
